Freedom's Just Another Word
by Hayseed Socrates
Summary: Tag to Grey Water (6.14) Patrick Jane contemplates his current situation. Mostly inner monologue, takes place immediately after the episode. (a little bit of language) I've added a second chapter from Lisbon's POV. (not a light and happy fic - just trying to figure things out)
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: I am just playing with these wonderful characters, and no copyright infringement is intended. The only thing I get from writing this is a few reviews (hopefully) and some peace of mind.

AN: The title is taken from the great Janis Joplin song, _Me and Bobby Magee._

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose…"

Set directly after Grey Water:

**3 am**

It's Fischer who calls to tell me. Fischer. Not Lisbon. Grace has been kidnapped and even then, she doesn't call me herself.

I drag myself out of my cozy bed in the Airstream and splash some water on my face. I'm still a little woozy from the beers I drank at the bar with Cho and Rigsby – I've only been asleep a little over an hour, after all.

A quick shower is a necessity, but soon I'm on the way in with the knowledge that this is going to be a long day. To tell the truth, the days all seem long lately. Last night with the guys was fun, but only served to contrast with how dull things have become in my "new" life. I try to enjoy the small pleasures, but something is missing, and I know what that something is.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have come back at all.

I get it, I guess. Lisbon felt used and abandoned when I left, leaving her with a career in tatters. Yet she picked things up and made it on her own just fine afterward. She thinks getting close to me again would be too much of a risk for her now, and she wants to establish herself as a "real" FBI agent, not my "sidekick," as she so indelicately put it.

_It was never that, Teresa_, I want to plead. I suppose the public perception was otherwise. I keep hoping Lisbon will thaw but I haven't seen the first glimmer of hope. It's not like she's mean to me. I'd almost prefer that. Almost.

At least on that island I wouldn't be getting anyone else I care about hurt. I surely don't relish the thought of working boring cases with Kim Fischer and watching more of my friends die for the next five years. _Where's the fun in that?_ I consider with black humor.

I wonder, if I disappeared again, would the FBI can Lisbon? I don't know. Plus, it would simply serve to validate Lisbon's opinion of me. I can't take that chance. No matter what the future holds, I owe her too much – always will.

I nearly turn the Airstream on its side when I see a specialty coffee shop with a 24 hour drive through, but I manage to make the turn upright. Tea for me, and Lisbon's special brew for her.

When I get to the FBI, I see her car in the lot. Inside, she's already at her desk, making calls, glued to her computer monitor. I make a beeline to her desk and sit the hot coffee down beside her, thinking I've done a good deed this time for sure. "Brought you a latte."

"Oh, thanks, Jane, but I don't drink those so much anymore." She lifts an identical cup with her left hand – which had been obstructed from my view. "I stopped on my way in, too. I'm trying to get rid of all that sugar in my coffee."

_Maybe that's her problem, _I wonder cynically. _Hypoglycemia_. She hasn't even looked up from her monitor. She scribbles something on a notepad, already reabsorbed in her task. "This has got to be Haiback, that smarmy bastard," she says with conviction.

I admonish myself for being so childish. Grace has been kidnapped. Of course that's what's important now. I stand behind Lisbon and peer at the screen, but I have no idea what she's looking for, and she doesn't bother to enlighten me.

Fischer appears out of nowhere, much to my chagrin. That woman must have a cloaking device, just like a Klingon warship.

"Jane, you come with me." _How annoying is that little motion she does with her hands? " _Let's go see if we can find anything at the scene. Cho and Rigsby are already there." Lisbon doesn't even look up, and Fischer catches me looking at her. "Lisbon is busy getting Haibach's information."

"Be there in a minute," I reply, and I sit down on my couch and have a sip of tea. If I were feeling charitable, I'd remind myself that Fischer is doing a job she unconsciously dislikes, and is unsuited for. I'm not feeling particularly kind, however, and what I really want to do is tell Fischer to go fuck herself, and let Lisbon and me go check out the scene together. My anger is displaced, I know that, and so I have another drink of tea instead.

This whole thing is unfortunate. Grace and Wayne are just a couple of nice kids with a new family, and if I hadn't involved them in the whole Red John mess they'd no doubt be safe at home in bed right now. I think back at how many people have died simply because they were associated with me. Leelee Barlow. Sophie Miller. Wainwright. Those are just a few of many and I wanted – needed - to leave all that behind. Now there's JJ. Am I just getting started again?

Lisbon looks up for a moment, and I think she might say something. I stare at the back of her head, appreciating what lovely hair she has. She hesitates for a moment and then looks back down at her monitor without speaking.

Maybe I should never have come back. Maybe I was right. It isn't healthy, especially now that people I care about are in danger again. Most of all, I miss spending time with Lisbon. I miss my partner. And I haven't the slightest idea what I can do about it.

"Jane!?" Fischer bellows, heading toward the elevators.

"Coming." I get up, tea in hand, and shuffle off after Fischer. I've got to get to the bottom of this, or there'll be one more on my list of dead friends. Poor Rigsby will be understandably distraught, a feeling I remember all too well.

Lisbon doesn't even say "Bye" as I walk away, and another little part of me dies.

Grace, I remind myself. I've got to find Grace.

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AN: I'm pretty sure I'm not the only on frustrated with the lack of Jane/Lisbon interaction on the show. I'm hoping it's part of an arc to get them together, and writing this is my way of dealing with things until then. Hope you found it worth reading.


	2. R-E-S-P-E-C-T

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Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist and I receive no monetary compensation from this story. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Wow, folks, thank you so much for your responses to the first chapter of this. I'm chuffed that some of you felt I got it somewhat right. I've decided to make a stab at Lisbon's POV - not so sure about this one, but please let me know if I got it wrong (or right). You know the song the title is taken from. R-E-S-P-E-C-T

**This chapter starts a few lines from the end of the last chapter, but from Lisbon's POV: **

It's so tempting to say something comforting. I can feel his eyes on the back of my head, waiting, wanting me to respond. I know he's just as worried as I am, and as a friend, I'd like to reassure him and let him reassure me, just like in the old days, when we were hunting Red John.

Can't allow myself to do that, though, because it's a slippery slope. I'm afraid I'll fall right back into my "role" as his sidekick, and if the last two years have taught me anything, it's that I need to look out for myself.

My email pings, and I check, immediately angry it's not the information I am waiting for. I check one other account and write down an address, but no, that's not the information I want, either. I sigh and slump back in my chair, and I realize he's already left with Fischer. I should have said something. Oh well. Jane will be fine.

"I'll always be there for you, Lisbon," he said to me once. Except he wasn't. That was just another lie – one he may have wanted to be true - but a lie all the same. It's not that I don't understand. He had to do it. To kill Red John, that is. I always said Jane would cost me my job at the CBI, and damned if I wasn't right, though I could never have imagined a scenario as improbable and bizarre as that Blake association train wreck. In the end, the way it went down – I'm not sorry he killed the bastard. I am stubbornly glad it wasn't on my watch, however. And that Jane lived.

I'm not bitter about it, in retrospect. I'm grateful that Jane got me this job offer. But I made it clear to Abbott that I am not here to control or babysit Jane, and they are honoring that stipulation so far. Abbott seems to respect me, and that is a huge relief. I like the guy – he's smart, and he values my input. It's refreshing not to be "that agent who lets Jane run all over her" to my boss.

I do feel a little guilty for enjoying how Jane ties Fischer up in knots all the time, but all I feel is relief that it's not me who's responsible for his messes these days. It's much more fun to watch him work without knowing I have a massive headache coming on.

Fischer has turned out to be a decent boss, except for accusing me of controlling Jane with sex. Okay, she didn't phrase it quite that way, but that's what she meant. Even Lorelei didn't control Jane with sex. Nope. She did it with the carrot of Red John's identity.

It was true, however, that I was a little bit in love with Jane. Of course it was true.

On my more self-reflective days, I think maybe it was because he was safe. As long as Red John was alive, he was married to his dead wife, and to his mission. I could flirt a bit and not worry it would lead to anything serious, and I allowed myself to get pretty close to him. We were best friends that couldn't be anything else, because of the situation, and maybe I liked it that way. Uncomplicated. Uncommitted.

But then my world fell apart with the CBI, and Jane disappeared, and I was alone. I know he had to run, but he was gone nevertheless. Forever, I thought.

When I took the job as sheriff in Cannon River, I enjoyed the break. I had time to think. To sample the kind of life where you have time to fix up a house, and have friends over for dinner. There was a lot to like about it. I was genuinely delighted when I started getting those letters from Jane. Yet I was also painfully aware he wasn't coming back. How could he? He was wanted for murder. So, I came to the conclusion that I could live without Jane, and life would go on. He was alive, and I had to be content with that. Sadly, in his letters, he didn't sound all that content himself.

My email pings again, and I snap to attention. Another false alarm. I wish they would hurry. Grace is out there somewhere, and I know Wayne is beside himself. I'm pretty sure she's still alive, and I can tell Jane thinks so, too. I can still read the guy pretty well, even though I don't always want to. I see things I won't want to see. I know I hurt him sometimes, but I cannot succumb to guilt – it's my Achilles heel.

I thought he was gone for good, and then "Poof," he reappears in my life, right out of the blue, like a rabbit out of a hat. It _was_ wonderful to see him, especially looking so well. But after he balked at the FBI changing his "deal", my anger took over. I was angry that the FBI was screwing him over, but I was also angry with him for pulling me into the mess as a condition for his freedom.

In the end, I got a good offer - a great opportunity where I wouldn't be bored all day. But what if I hadn't wanted the job? Would I have been compelled to take a job I didn't want, just to save Jane from prison? It rankled me he'd put me in that position. That he would assume I'd do that for him, and let him use me one more time. How selfish was that?

That's when I made my decision - I would take this job, but I would keep my distance from Jane. I'd help the FBI cope with him, and advise them the best I could, but I was no longer responsible for his behavior. I made that clear.

I've promised myself I won't become emotionally involved this time around. It's not healthy. It became obvious right away that while 'Jane after Red John' seemed lighter, he hasn't changed all that much. He still wears that ring, meaning he hasn't really healed at all. He seems to want things to be just like they used to be, only without Red John, but I can't do that. I want a career that doesn't depend on him. I have to look out for myself this time, and falling back into old habits is not going to accomplish that goal.

I can't fix Patrick Jane - he has to fix himself. And I'm not sure whether he can.

I get a whiff of Jane's gift latte sitting on my desk and take a little sip. _Oh wow, that's good_. I'd nearly forgotten. I take another drink, and another. The sweet goodness warms my insides and the memories of how much fun it was to work beside Jane come flowing back with my sugar high.

Maybe I'm being mean by keeping Jane at arms' length. I know it bothers him, and I don't like seeing him unhappy about it. It's been fun to watch him peg the other team members so accurately. They're beginning to understand why I put with him for so long, too, and to appreciate just how brilliant he can be, and that makes me happy.

I check the computer again. _C'mon people, wake up and email me what I need. _As soon as it comes, I can join the rest of the team out in the field. I take another sip of this luscious latte and savor the goodness. Lord knows I need the caffeine.

Maybe I am being too hard on Jane, I don't know. He has been on his best behavior lately. Maybe I should go take a look at that stupid motor home he's so proud of, like he's been asking me to. It's got to be better than the attic at CBI, after all.

While I take another drink of coffee and wait, the good memories come flooding back. My old CBI team – we were a family. Jane's crazy antics drove me nuts, but he could be very kind, as well, and sometimes nobody but me realized that. Jane is the one who deserves the credit for finally getting Wayne and Grace together, after all, arranging that crazy stint on the Love Doctor. He got me a pony, God bless him.

I also remember the look on his face when he saw me in a dress. I smile to myself, remembering that sunset when he admitted how much I meant to him. It was part of his plan to dump me, but he wasn't lying, and I know that. Back then, I was livid about him leaving me on that beach, but with the passage of time I also understand that I'd probably be dead if he hadn't. He left me there _because_ I meant so much to him.

"Lisbon?" Abbott's voice snaps me out of my daydreaming. "Coming?"

"Yes, sir," I answer quickly. "Just as soon as I get this email with the Haibach information."

"Good. We can use your input out there. See you at the scene."

"Thanks, boss," I answer, with no small amount of pride and satisfaction.

Just then, the email I've been waiting for pops up, and I click to print the attachment.

I start to take another drink of the latte and I stop short. I don't need all this sugar. While I wait for the printer, I head to the restroom and sling the rest of the coffee into the sink. Then I wash it down the drain with some water and dump the empty cup into the trash.

Not again. This time, I need to look out for myself. You never know when Jane will disappear again, or God forbid, get himself killed during one of his stupid schemes. It scares me that he's been even _more_ reckless since he's been back. I'm not exactly sure why.

I hurry back to snatch the pages out of the printer, and head to my car.

We've got to find Grace.

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AN: What do you think? Is this where Lisbon is? I'm not sure.


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